


Resilience

by XenArgon



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: It's really just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 03:56:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4004953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XenArgon/pseuds/XenArgon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starscream reminisces about things lost to time. Also a look into just how he puts up with Megatron sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resilience

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know much about canon backstory, but I much prefer the idea that Starscream was a politician of some sort prior to the war. Apologies for any direct contradictions to canon or anything like that.

Another failed mission.  
They had become increasingly common since the decepticons' arrival on Earth, although it probably had to do with the fact that the entire faction had dwindled to a depressingly small number.  
Either way, Starscream found himself trudging through the Nemesis, pain shooting through his body with each step. All he wanted, all he sought was solitude in his quarters, and to reach them before Megatron could find him.  
How had things changed so much? There was a time when failure on Starscream's part was a serious matter, when it meant that reinforcements were necessary to complete the task he had initially been given. There was a time when Megatron had respected him, but now he seemed to be the only one to blame for any failure among the decepticons.  
He barely even remembered what it was like to live without Megatron.  
It had been eons since he joined the ranks of the decepticons, and sometimes he wondered why he did it. Because, while there was a time when being a decepticon meant fighting for freedom and social equality, that had changed too.  
But it was this first goal that had caused him to join in the first place. Memories returned to him, of the laboratory he worked in, of the Energon Seekers, of Vos, and of the respect he gained just for being part of them. And while he would never complain about attention, a thought had always lurked in the back of his mind, that it seemed wrong to respect him for what he was instead of his actual merits. And, again, while he never would have denied praise, he sometimes felt as though his work went largely unnoticed in the face of his mere existence within the higher classes of society.  
And occasionally while he pondered, trying to quiet his processor to standby, he wondered what exactly it was about the miners of society that made them only fit to dig for their whole lives. Was it just how they were built? Because he had seemingly been built for flight, a privilege that went sorely underused in his life within the political sphere.  
And yet he remembered vividly one evening in an awkwardly semi-formal party within a penthouse of a newly built tower, surrounded by senators who greatly underestimated his scientific merit and scientists who wondered why they had been invited, that one particular senator approached him, obviously having consumed slightly too much high grade, and proceeded to mention his adoration for Starscream's potential among the senate, claiming he had been imbued with "the spark of a prince."  
Not then, and not now, had he ever been able to understand what that meant. Yet, the phrase still stuck with him for some reason, even as he finally found his place within the senate.  
Even as the seeker froze with fear upon hearing the heavy footsteps of his master approaching, his mind still lingered in the past, in the first days following his appointment into the senate. Even as panic gripped him tighter than Megatron soon did, metal claws wrapped firmly around his head, part of his processor still reminisced about the life he used to lead on his own.  
Politics, to him, was a game. While he could not say he disliked research, the science of weapons was an unwavering field, rigid as were the laws of physics. But the game of politics was fluid; every decision changed further variables, and the variables influenced further decisions. But to Starscream, the goal was to win the votes of the others, by whatever means had been necessary; and he found that he was rather good at finding new means of doing so. Whether it came in the form of obscene amounts of money granted to those who didn't really deserve it, to feigning interest in people he hated until they felt obligated to return a favor of sorts, to the simpler methods of pure deception, and, most entertaining, blackmail. He even remembered one instance where he followed one particularly stubborn senator to a bar near the border of Tarn, started an idle conversation with him about the coincidences of their meeting while gradually feigning inebriation, all while the senator continued to consume actual high-grade, until they interfaced later and Starscream left before he awoke. The uncertainty, shame and fear he had created within that senator was enough to influence his following decisions, even though he had to have known he'd been played; the complexity or simplicity of the given tactics did not matter so long as the game's score was tipped in the seeker's favor.  
It was ruthless, coldhearted, even, but his success was undeniable, as nearly every action the senate took while he was a part of it was in some way influenced by his touch, and usually in his favor. And unlike weaponry, other mechs learned from him, some trying to ignore his influence, others trying to use it against him.  
Pain shot through him like lightning as Megatron threw him into the adjacent wall. He felt something in his shoulder snap out of place, but it was probably broken to begin with.   
It was long after his political start, however, that the seeker's thoughts started to turn back to those in the lower classes of society, those who had built the towers in which he lived. What exactly was the difference between a miner and himself, that gave the former far fewer rights than he?  
Metal claws dug into one of his wings, eliciting a pained scream, and even though he knew it was probably pointless, he still continued to try to worm his way out of his master's grasp.  
Try as he might to pretend it were not so, Starscream had been all but alone in the senate. Partially this was due to the aforementioned tactics he used against the others as if it were an all-out war, but the other part lied in the fact that he had never wanted the company of equals. He could talk to his subordinates for hours on end about things they never cared about, and he could observe his betters to learn their secrets, but one of equal merit, to him, was only competition. So when he grew increasingly curious about a miner turned gladiator turned rebel upstart, there was no one he knew who could grant him the information he desired.  
So, he was forced to investigate it himself.  
Static filled his head as he started losing feeling in his legs, error messages plagued his distracted processor even though he had begun to ignore the pain. He shut his eyes, letting himself drift back to his memories.  
All he had known of the gladiator at first was his goals, that of social equality through abolishment of the caste system no one had dared to acknowledge, and a leadership built upon hierarchy instead.  
And it reminded him of his occasional ponderings, about what it was that made him different from miners such as the mech in question. Moreso, if he had been imbued with the spark of a prince, what did that mean for those born into lower classes who carried the sparks of kings? They could never find their way into the political world as he had done almost accidentally... that potential would be wasted. But here was one of the lower class mechs openly fighting against the very mindset that made Cybertronian society what it was, and the one thing that had bothered Starscream about it.  
He wouldn't dare express his interest in the rebel movement to anyone within the senate, and so he was forced once again to pursue the thinking on his own time.  
Never would he forget that night when he found himself among a loud, bustling group in a crowded establishment in the outskirts of Kaon, where he knew no one particularly liked him, but held the confidence necessary not to care, that he first met with the rebel gladiator with whom he so eagerly wished to speak. Followed closely by one fairly bulky mech and another with disproportionate arms, the gladiator had seemed more than prepared to take down everyone in that bar if it had been necessary.  
Megatron's frame had not changed much since then. Even then he still towered over the others around him, his broad shoulders parting the crowd he walked through, his eyes glancing from mech to mech, and with a single look, were capable of striking panic into the very spark, or quelling all fear altogether. The latter was the sort of glance he cast toward Starscream initially. A senator of Vos traveling alone to Kaon held considerable courage in taking such a bold step, and he respected boldness.  
Their conversation had started initially about Kaon, but lingered for a while on what had brought the seeker there. Occasionally Starscream's attention turned to one of what seemed to be Megatronus's guards, the one with the disproportionately long arms. The blue mech seemed out of place in such an establishment, as he had remained entirely silent for the time the seeker had noticed him. Nonetheless, the figure's purple eyes occasionally drifted from target to target, every so often turning back to the seeker. Megatronus noticed this after a while, introducing the blue mech as a fellow gladiator despite the figure's awfully lithe frame in comparison to his own.  
Starscream had no further interest in the silent mech.  
His conversation with Megatronus had grown increasingly relaxed, until it almost felt as though the two had been acquainted for ages. Thus, Starscream's question had been answered that night.  
What separated him from the members of the lowest caste? Nothing.  
For a brief moment, the seeker went unconscious following several repeated impacts to his head, but on the plus side he felt nothing anymore, just the emptiness of a frame torn asunder.  
It was not that night that he swore his loyalty to Megatronus, but it might as well have been. With the exception of a few senate hearings, all his remaining time was spent amongst the decepticons. After all, the gladiator had, in a sense, freed him. Though not literal, his newfound freedom was that of the mind; possibilities he had never conceived of suddenly became realistic goals to him, namely of actually consequential power, the abolishment of the caste system, and the uprising of all Cybertronians into a new golden age. While it might have seemed irrelevant beside social justice, he was also particularly fond of the fact that his being a seeker of Vos no longer meant anything special. All his value to Megatronus was found in his political merits, his ability to sway others to his will, to lead others... and that was exactly what he needed.  
It had felt like one long night alongside Megatronus before he finally swore fealty, even though the actual timescale had been somewhere between two and four months.  
When that night had finally ended and turned to morning, he had gained a name.  
Starscream.  
No one in particular had picked it for him. In fact, no one could be entirely sure of who had come up with it initially, but he had the feeling in the back of his mind that it had to do with one of the patrons in that establishment just before his initiation having said something about him "having power over the stars." More specifically, he thought he heard one of the decepticons mention him having power such to command them to scream.  
Maybe it was his imagination.  
Nonetheless, his interactions with Megatronus grew much more professional following his initiation, but he was quickly thrown back into his prior life, instructed to continue with his regular affairs until such time came that the decepticons would be called upon all at once. The thought was an interesting one, to recruit members from all across Cybertron under a veil of secrecy, then to rebel simultaneously, if it were not for the fact that it meant Starscream had to return to his prior life after having been so suddenly enlightened.  
This time Megatron's brute strength was used against his other wing, and it turned out to be the only part of him left that still felt pain. He cried out in utter agony, simultaneously lamenting everything wonderful that had been lost to time.  
His time upon returning to the senate was more lonely than he remembered, but that was probably because, for once in his life, he'd found a place where he felt like he truly belonged. Yet, even on his own, he still knew the decepticons were beside him, and he had made a vow that forced their interests to preclude his own.  
When that fateful time had finally come for the decepticons to rise up, he had been more than glad to do so, and took some small degree of joy in watching the other senators of Vos become rather quickly terrified of his new alignment. It was soon after then that he had to fend himself for the first time.  
But what was lost of his prior life was more than repaid merely watching the global rebellion finally come to fruition. His mere association with the decepticons gave him more weight than his mere status as a seeker ever did, and it meant more to him now that he had been given a name.   
For, with a name comes individuality, and individuality is the crux of freedom.  
The seeker's eyes opened slightly, and through his foggy vision, he was able to see blue around him... Energon. It was his energon he was lying in.  
He remembered the first century under Megatron's rule, as it had been the best time of his entire life. The full potential of his scheming mind was not wasted, nor was his swiftness in flight. Even Megatron saw his capabilities as a leader, and so Starscream ascended within the decepticon ranks seemingly faster than anyone in previous history. The silent mech who he had observed the first night upon meeting Megatron had come to be known as Soundwave, although by the time Starscream had ever met him as a fellow decepticon, the communications chief had voluntarily covered himself with a glass visor, for reasons unknown.  
Shockwave was one of the only decepticons he continually hated. Partially it was because of his uncredited use of the seeker's early work on null ray technology, but the hulking mech had seemed awfully myopic for a scientist, and that wasn't even a reference to his vision. In essence, Shockwave was the only equal he found within the ranks of the decepticons, and thus his only competition.  
But eons had passed of successes, of a true overthrow of an entire planet and its social workings, of mindsets and loyalties, Starscream at the heart of it all.  
He opened his eyes again, looking into Megatron's face. The gladiator had lifted him up by his neck, and just stared at him for a moment. The seeker had neither the will nor the strength to move at all, and so he hung limp from Megatron's grasp, occasionally letting out the quieted sounds of pain.  
So many things had changed since then. With the decepticon numbers having dwindled, Starscream was left with few to command, if any.  
And so he was forced to fight on his own, except that this inevitably led to his continued failures, and to the growing hatred between him and his master.  
He was no different than when he had first met the gladiator on that fateful night, and yet Megatron seemed to feel as though Starscream had grown weaker over time, when in reality, there were only a few choice things he could excel at, and he was not being given any of those tasks.  
So he had tried to learn. But after enough failures, it became harder and harder to believe the adage that progress is made from mistakes.  
But for a seeker whose value lies solely in the worth of his actions, continued failures denote worthlessness.  
And so Starscream had desperately tried to search for approval, even if it meant suffering through unfathomable amounts of pain, in the hopes that he could one day regain that status he once held, just to break the cycle Megatron had started with him. Because now, on the cusp of total victory over the autobots, his existence had started to fall apart. He was left with no acknowledgement, no respect, and no chance to regain either of them. Countless times, he had considered overthrowing Megatron, or breaking his ties with the decepticons forever, but both possibilities begged the simple question of what should follow, and he was not prepared to answer such questions.  
Megatron finally threw him out of the room, signaling the end of his temporary wrath. Starscream slammed into the floor on the other side of the door, just lying there for a moment in tranquility.  
Strangely enough, one of the only things that he thought of in situations like this was what that senator had told him so many eons ago, for it was the only thing Megatron could not take from him.  
It was the only thought that gave him solace in despair, and the courage to continue on.  
He had the spark of a prince.  
Whatever that meant.


End file.
